


alias

by qar



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Kinda, Minor Character Death, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, at the very end, not many! but a little bit, quangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27965972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qar/pseuds/qar
Summary: It’s a joke between allies turned enemies; between a dying man and a teenager, between a leader and a subordinate gone rebellious. The words reverberate around Quackity’s head like a gong going off in his cranium. They fill up every crack in his thoughts. Just two words, on repeat, in every nook and cranny of his body. This is all he is.Disclaimer:If any of the creators mention they are uncomfortable with these types of fics I will take this down.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt
Comments: 16
Kudos: 206





	alias

**Author's Note:**

  * For [like_theletter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_theletter/gifts).



> tw for self-worth issues, a little suicidal thoughts at the end

Never being taken seriously is fine. Quackity’s always preferred the role of comic relief; it’s much more simple to never have to deal with emotions and difficult situations. Quackity’s good at diffusing tension, and if that’s all he’s good for then that’s all he’ll do.

Then why does it hurt so much?

Quackity is 19. He is the Vice President of Manberg, second to President JSchlatt. He is important. He handles many jobs, even if it doesn’t seem like it. He is in control of a city, and what a city it is.

Quackity is 19. He is in the midst of a war. He is the Fatty Patty of the Cabinet. He is important. He is the comedic relief and the shoulder to cry on for those who trust him. Not many trust him.

Quackity is 19, and he is useless. There are 16 year olds in this war. He is the Fatty Patty of the Cabinet, he is talked over and ignored, and he is 19. He is worthless.

Tubbo is 16, and he has suffered so much. Quackity knows this in the way the teenager’s shoulders shake, sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking. In the way he falls asleep at his desk. In the way he’ll stare, blankly, at crumpled images of people long gone. In the way he’d fought a war Quackity had only heard of and come out victorious. In the way he sobs, soundlessly, when someone sets off a firework outside the White House; and the way his skin is scarred, horribly, with pale white crawling from his torso to his jaw in tendrils.

And he is so, so brave in the way he takes it in stride when Schlatt insults him, and clenches his jaw and says nothing when his friends are mocked and abused in front of his eyes, and how he takes the demeaning words and the way he laughs at Quackity’s terrible jokes. He is so strong. He is in control of himself in a way no 16 year old should be.

Still, no matter how much shit he takes, Tubbo is still taken _seriously_. He’ll suggest features for Manberg with a practiced ease, and Schlatt will listen to him, because if Tubbo is anything he is resilient and he is calm. He wants what is best, and people understand this. And it _shouldn’t_ sting when Quackity finally adds some input into a meeting instead of “standing in a corner and look[ing] pretty.” And it shouldn’t sting worse when Tubbo repeats what he’s said and is immediately listened to. It shouldn’t.

It shouldn’t, because Quackity is the comic relief, and his role as Vice President is nothing but a title given to him out of necessity. His only use is to stand in a corner and look pretty, as Schlatt had told him once. Schlatt was right. 

The Fatty Patty jokes are replaced with Flatty Patty jokes. It’s incredibly stupid. It’s nothing more than a stupid joke, yet it stings more than anything else. Quackity’s always had mixed emotions about Schlatt- the man was a drunkard, and downright physically abusive to Tubbo (and him, but that didn’t matter) sometimes. Still, some part of him, the part that had signed the coalition in the first place, still begs for recognition and appreciation. He’s _trying_ , he _is_ , and for some reason Schlatt never seems to care about the stacks of paperwork he’d find completed at his desk in the morning or the way Quackity was splitting at the seams.

That part of him never really left, Quackity realises, when he’s curled on the cold floor of Pogtopia. There’s something in him rooted in disbelief and horror, in awe as it watched the world around him crumble down, in pain and misery as Schlatt taunted him and talked about taking down the White House Quackity’d built with his own hands. He’s worthless, now, more than he’s ever been, because he’s no longer in the cabinet, because _no one_ trusts him, because he couldn’t even stand still and be pretty well enough.

Quackity is 19. He is covered in bruises that do not matter. He has failed in protecting Tubbo from Schlatt. He is no longer Vice President, leader of a nation. He is no longer the fattest ass in the Cabinet. He is an outlaw, he is in pain and he is a failure.

Tommy is 16, and he has suffered so much. Quackity can see it in every cautious move he makes, and the way he flinches at things _he shouldn’t be flinching at_ , and the way he tries to comfort Quackity through loud jokes when he sees himself in the other. This child has fought a war and come out victorious. This child has sacrificed himself for freedom. This child has been betrayed so, so many times, and yet he still finds space for loyalty and kindness in his heart.

Quackity has been betrayed once by someone who never loved him, and it has broken him so badly. Maybe it’s because he invested too much trust. Maybe it’s because all his self-worth was based on the praises Schlatt fed him, and now he knows they aren’t true. Maybe something about being called a Fatty Patty struck harder than he realised the first few times around. Maybe he wanted to be more than something to look at. Maybe he _wanted_ Schlatt to be proud.

There’s something so painfully moronic about that want, Quackity thinks, watching Schlatt die on the floor of the Camarvan. There’s no saving him; he’s on the brink of death, hiccuping and gasping for breath. No one steps forward to help. Nothing can be done. No one _wants_ anything to be done, but Quackity finds himself taking inventory of the things he has. 

No potions. No golden apples. There’s really no saving him, at least on his behalf. Quackity finds himself inexplicably divided about this fact; the bruises on his shoulder and his cheek and most of his body scream _thank god, he’s gone, he’s dead, we can rest_ while his heart holds it’s breath and nudges him closer.

“Quackity,” Schlatt rasps, sounding like a chainsmoker who’s just screamed himself raw. “Quackity, come here.” 

He moves on instinct. His body screams. His heart reluctantly dares to hope against the will of every other part of his nervous system. Maybe, just maybe… 

He kneels down next to the man. He stinks of alcohol and reeks of death. His face is gaunt and hollowed out, exhausted from the last few weeks of running a government on his own. He is a man surrounded by defeat and enemies. He sure looks like one.

“Yes, Schlatt?” he asks, obedient till the end.

It’s a joke between allies turned enemies; between a dying man and a teenager, between a leader and a subordinate gone rebellious. The words reverberate around Quackity’s head like a gong going off in his cranium. They fill up every crack in his thoughts. Just two words, on repeat, in every nook and cranny of his body. This is all he is.

The man’s eyes phase out, and his head slowly lolls back. Quackity watches with numb eyes. He screams, probably, and someone laughs.

Flatty Patty. That is all he is. He is worthless, he is useless in this war, and he is nothing to anyone anymore. All his worth and pride has died with the man on the floor. 

The newly reclaimed L’manberg explodes. Quackity is right next to the explosion. He can’t bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> was feelin some QUANGST and wanted to torture L with some "flatty patty" so here we are. L, if you're reading this, i hope you enjoyed kickboxing and . please dont beat me up i wrote this with love
> 
> my discord server, the writer's block: https://discord.gg/w9CwSK26mm
> 
> love you all!! stay safe :)


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